


She Was Made By the Stars Themselves

by chant_de_lune



Series: They Will Meet Again [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Healing, Not Romance, Sad Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 18:03:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chant_de_lune/pseuds/chant_de_lune
Summary: Bellamy Blake does not know how to move on from Clarke's death.A love that deep leaves scars which cannot be erased.But not all love is romantic, and time can heal all wounds.- the one where the universe gives Bellamy a little star girl to help him love again





	She Was Made By the Stars Themselves

The first month was a grueling, gnawing ache in Bellamy’s chest.

He sat in the Chancellor’s chair and drank from Jaha’s bottle, part of him reeling at the place of power he had only known when he swabbed the floors only two years ago.

The company was nice, friendly banter sparking up after the first few melancholy days. For every smile he faked, Bellamy shook off the phantom sensation in his hand, like it should have been reaching for someone else. He missed the shadow-like feeling of someone at his side, a voice in his ear when his face revealed inner strife. He stowed down every poisonous thought of self hatred and blame until his chamber door had shut behind him.

And he cried with his hand pressed against the window, letting the tears drop like rain.

Clarke told him that he had a big heart. He never told her how much of it belonged to her.

 

When he was able to fall asleep without tears or nightmares, Bellamy thought about his future, and the person he wanted beside him. Echo had grown less cold, and he had Raven to thank for the long nights where he just could not sleep. Bellamy was in no mood to make advances, fearful that one soft hand pressed to his chest and he would return to that day.

He put it off. Put it off till Monty finally got the still working.

That day never came.

 

Eight weeks after the death wave, there was a crackle of static on the radio. Bellamy leapt on it, swearing his ears heard a familiar voice.

But the voice that replied was coarse, masculine. Before Bellamy could ask their identity, Harper screamed as she pointed to the window.

 

The Ring was defenseless when the miners came onboard.

* * *

 

Unlike most of their adversaries, the miners did not want them dead or drained of their blood and marrow. Their leader eyed Bellamy up and down, asked him how he would like to work scrubbing a latrine.

Bellamy responded dryly “Well, I suppose it is better than death.”

They were taken aboard, but the welcome was less than gracious. Several of the prisoners, hair grimy with sweat and oil, started cooing at Raven, Echo, Emori, and Harper as they walked by. One man was brazen enough to saunter towards them, hand outstretched.

Bellamy leaned forward and broke his wrist without thinking about it. Muscle memory from his days as a cadet.

He was thrown into a cell for that. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t sure if it counted as punishment on a prisoner rig until his door was locked.

He had spent a few hours in lockup before he heard the faint sound of a child crying.

The guardsman groaned, and Bellamy stood up.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“An orphan,” groused the guard.

“Has nightmares every time someone tries to get some shuteye in this place.”

“Can’t anyone help her?”

“Nothing’s worked. Why, did you have kids?” the guard eyed Bellamy curiously.

A small pang hit Bellamy’s heart, he pushed away the _I could have_ to give the guard a slight shrug.

“I’m patient.” The answer was good enough for the guard, pacing forward to unlock his cell.

“You get that little girl to quiet down, I’ll try not to throw you back in here again.” He showed Bellamy to the cell where the little girl was sniffling in the dimly lit corner.

“Someone here to talk to you, sweetheart,” the guard called out as he walked away.

The little girl looked at Bellamy curiously as he crouched down, hugging her arms around her knees. He was struck by how young this girl really was, like she could not have been more than four.

“Who are you?” she asked, her face red from crying.

“My name is Bellamy,” he said, sitting down about a foot away from her.

“You’re one of the new people?” She wiped her cheek on a sleeve.

Bellamy nodded. “I am. What is your name?”

The girl cocked her head for a moment, confused.

“Astra,” she replied. Bellamy gives her a rare smile.

“Astra? That’s a pretty name. It means “Star.”

“It does?” the girl’s eyes widened. The light caught them and Bellamy saw that they were a vibrant shade of blue.

His smile went wider as his heart unexpectedly warmed.

“Yes, in a language people used to speak a long, long time ago.”

“How long ago?” Astra scooted closer to him, and Bellamy swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking about the little girl who grew up, waiting for him in the bunker.

 “So long ago, that people didn’t have metal walls around them. It was just stone and brick, from the poor man’s hovel to the emperor’s palace.”

Before he knew it, the story of Romulus, Remus, and the Seven Hills of Rome came forth from his lips, and Astra listened in rapt attention. Bellamy left out the part on Remus’s death and spun into the tale of Caesar Augustus, keeping his voice level and modulated. Astra started yawning, but tried to hide it until her eyelids were falling. She was asleep when Bellamy looked back to her.

He tried to smile, but frowned when he saw that she had no pillow for her head, save her forearms. He paused for a moment, then took off his jacket, bundling it underneath her head.

He doesn’t need it anymore. It carried more bad memories than good.

The guard came back, his eyebrows raised at the deep state of Astra’s sleep. He opened the door for Bellamy to walk out.

“Why is she locked up?” asked Bellamy.

“Pickpocket. She liked to take things and hide them in the walls. I see she already took your jacket there,” said the guard, aiming for humor.

“Tell her it’s no rush to get it back to me,” Bellamy replied as he started walking in search of his crew.

“Thank you for helping her,” the guard called. Bellamy looked over his shoulder and nodded.

 

* * *

 

 It’s a few days before the guard found him again, walking away from the mess hall.

“Hey, pal, I’m gonna need your help again,” he said, clapping Bellamy on the shoulder.

“With Astra?”

“Yes, this is worse than usual. I think she’s having a panic attack.”

Bellamy started jogging until he came to her cell, peering through the bars.

“Astra?” he called as the guard unlocked the door. Again he crouched in front of Astra, who was struggling to breathe, Bellamy’s jacket almost engulfing her.

“Astra, listen to me, look at me! You have to take deep breaths in, okay? 1, 2…” He practiced with her for several minutes, until her shoulders relaxed.

“What was it? Bad dream?” he asked. She nodded.

“About what?” Astra looked at him, and then back down at her hands.

“My daddy.” she said with a sniffle.

“And where is he?” Bellamy asked, fear growing as his mind stared shifting gears. A few fresh tears streamed down Astra’s face.

“He’s gone. He..he had a rope and-” she pointed up to the ceiling, and her lips trembled as she started weeping again.

Something in Bellamy’s heart _wrenched_ , realizing that he had recognized that empty look in Astra’s eyes. He scooted closer, opening his arms slightly, in case she wanted a hug.

Without a moment of hesitation, Astra scrambled up and _ran_ into his chest, her hands not even meeting across the middle of his back.

Bellamy holds her tight, his hand coming up to touch her hair, an old habit that he had missed.

He loosens his arms when her shaking stops, and he lets her pull away from him first.

“I’m so sorry,” Bellamy told her.

“He used to tell me stories at night. But no one else did.” she said sadly, looking at Bellamy.

“Can you tell me another one? I really liked the Romans one. ” Bellamy smiled, nodding even without the faint memories of Octavia asking the same question.

“Of course. What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” said Astra, scooting next to him under her head was against his arm. Bellamy lifted it, and she nestled herself against his side.

And though Bellamy had dozens of myths up his sleeve, not to mention a handful of fables and fairytales, he found his imagination veering in a different direction.

“There once were people who fell from the stars. Some of them were children like you.”

“Where they scared?”

“Some of them were. Some of them were running from the bad things they had done. But one star girl told them not to be afraid, that she knew what to do.”

“Like a princess,” giggled Astra. Bellamy’s heart did a swoop.

“Yeah, just like a princess,” he said as he hugged her a little closer.

“What did she look like?” Astra looked up at him, and maybe it was her startlingly similar eyes or the softness of the moment, but Bellamy felt ready. And with each word, his chest felt lighter.

“Why, she was beautiful! Like she was made by the stars themselves. Her golden hair glowed like the sun, and her eyes were bright, like the haze in the Milky Way. They were blue, just like yours.”

Bellamy knew that he was waxing poetry like a hopeless romantic with a flair for theatrics. He didn’t care. Clarke gave up her life so he could live. He could do this for her, inspire awe in a child who would never meet her.

“You knew the star girl?”

“Yes, I did. I loved the star girl very much.”

* * *

 

It became a habitual thing. Bellamy still spent time with his friends, but they were spilt off within the ship, once the crew realized the goldmine of knowledge shared between Raven and Monty.

Echo drifted further away, but he found that he didn’t mind that too much.

A few people in the group introduced themselves to Astra, who took an immediate liking to them after a week or so.

Bellamy was still her favorite, still the one who came to tell her stories and comfort her after her nightmares.

And he kept talking about the star girl. About her smile, her kindness, the way her gentle hands could wrap the harshest wounds.

He didn’t call her Clarke until Astra begged for a name. And it was easier to talk to someone innocent, someone who had no idea of the horrible crimes that he and Clarke had to do.

He slept better at night, once he had quietly left Astra’s cell and entered his own. He entreated the guard to let Astra out of the cell, that he could be her guardian.

But the guard merely shook his head.

“Everyone with kids doesn’t want her around them.”

So Bellamy took it upon himself to sneak little toys into her cell.

He found charcoal and showed her how to draw with it. She delightedly started marking up the walls, and Bellamy shut his eyes, remembering the cell he had walked into on the Ring, covered in etchings.

It didn’t hurt as much, but he wished Clarke was there to see this wonderful little girl.  That longing wasn’t helped as Astra started growing taller, her head now level with Bellamy’s navel.

She had dark curly hair that wasn’t quite as thick as his, but he still braided it whenever she asked.

Her resemblance to seemingly every person he had ever loved was not lost on him, but he kept it tucked away.

He could tell her sad things when she was old enough to comfort him.

When five years came, he and Raven, now trusted members onboard the ship, went to the captain, asking for a pod to go down to Earth.

They were politely turned down, the captain fearing the radiation levels were still too high for the colony.

He asked them for another year and a half, and so they waited.

 

And so they waited.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy held Astra, now nine years old and kicking her heels into his shins, as they were strapped in for reentry.

“I’m gonna meet Octavia?” she twisted to meet Bellamy’s face. He nodded with a gentle smile, kissing her forehead.

“I’m sure Octavia will be glad to find out she has a niece,” said Murphy, humorously. Bellamy rolled his eyes, and then they started falling.

Everyone fell quiet.

The ship landed with a shuddering roll.

People soon started filing out, but Bellamy hung back with his group, his hand holding Astra’s.

She wriggled out from between his legs and started running through the crowds.

“Astra! ASTRA!” By the time he and the rest of the Arkers had made it to the door, she was not in sight. He stepped out, breathing fresh air for the first time in six and a half years.

He stared in awe at the green around him, like he had that very first day on the ground.

“That shouldn’t be a bad hike to Polis,” said Emori, hefting her pack.

“Yeah, can’t wait to dig out a whole bunch of people,” muttered Murphy.

Bellamy halfheartedly listened to their chatter for a few minutes, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Astra comes running to him from behind, making a leap for his back.

“Astra! What did I say about running away from me?” Bellamy chastised her as he pried her off his shoulders. She could have a piggy-back ride once she apologized.

“Sorry, Bellamy! But I just wanted to run! I ran out into the grass, and I saw her!”

Astra started bouncing up and down. “I saw your star girl, Bellamy!”

His friends stared in confusion and shock, Raven and Monty turning to each other and exchanging silent thoughts.

“No.. Astra,” Bellamy shook his head. “You’re mistaken. I lost the star girl a long time ago.”

Astra furiously shook her head and pointed into the distance.

“No, it was her!”

“Astra, they were just stories!”

“The gold hair like you said! She's hiding in the trees, waiting for you!”

Bellamy’s heart stuttered, something awakening that had long been dormant.

His eyes snapped to the forest, and he swear he saw the briefest flash of a blonde head.

 

Clarke Griffin had always given him hope and strength.

He had seen her do the impossible, and maybe, just maybe, she had done it again.

Bellamy put his heart on the line, ruffling Astra’s hair.

“Then let’s go find her.”

**Author's Note:**

> So it seems like I can only finish things if I write them in one sitting....and after midnight   
> Once this idea grabbed hold of me, I couldn't let go of it, hence why I'm sitting here at 20 to 4 in the morning.
> 
> I hope you liked it, and I do plan on doing a Clarke companion piece.   
> Please comment! I know that finale hurt us all.


End file.
